Last week I read Luke 22 and was struck by a phrase Jesus’ uses twice: “Pray so that you will not fall into temptation” (Verses 40 & 46).  It’s the last night of Jesus’ life. He has gone to pray at the Mount of Olives, in order to prepare himself for the ordeal that lies ahead. In his humanity, he is tempted to turn away from the will of the Father and avoid the pain and shame of crucifixion. Yet as a faithful son, he does not want to choose that path.  He knows that prayer – and prayer alone – will sustain him. Only prayer will give him the strength of mind and heart to avoid temptation and hold firmly onto his trust in the Father.  Jesus knows that his closest friends also will be tempted. As they watch him be arrested, tried, and crucified, they will face the torment of fear and doubt.  “Will the authorities come after us next?” “Could we have been wrong about Jesus? Is he really the Messiah?” Such fears and doubts are real. Jesus knows that prayer – and on

Our new barn is being built as I write. It’s a huge project, with numerous steps and massive amounts of labor and materials, and it’s exciting to see it go up day by day.  Like many visions, it’s been an unfolding story; one that started several years ago. Soon after we bought our historic farmhouse, on an acre of land, we started to talk about re-building our present barn. It’s old, the roof leaks, the walls have weeds growing through, and some of the siding is missing.  Sadly, we realized the old barn was beyond repair, so the conversation moved to building a new one. And when our son relocated here, our idea…our dream…our vision…became a reality. Months of planning, discussion and design-creation ensued.  As materials arrived and excavation began, my anticipation began to build. In June the cement footings were poured, and a month ago we started to frame the building. Week by week, I’ve seen the pieces move into place with the labor of my son, my husband, and some help fr

I’ve often wondered how to understand the phrase “Taste and see that the Lord is good” that David penned in Psalm 34:8. I can’t even see the Lord, much less actually “taste” him.  But today God provided a lesson to help me gain clearer understanding of what that phrase might mean.  Leaning on the edge of our front porch is a big flowering bush with pink blossoms. In this season, it is in bloom and some flowering plants – like this one – produce sweet nectar that attracts bees. As we know, the fuzzy bodies of the bees actually move the sticky pollen from flower to flower and help the plant produce fruit.  If I’m quiet, I can hear the buzzing of their wings as they flit around, then then stop to gather pollen. But before the bees land on the pollen-laden flowers, they have to see where to find it. They don’t fly to our succulent plants, nor to our cedar tree. They look for and find the flowers they can pollenate, attracted by the sweetness of the nectar. It is amazing to wa

I was sitting on my front porch talking to a friend on the phone. I described the beauty of what I could see: the roses and other flowers, the bushes, and even a beautiful old cedar tree. I told her what a treat it was to sit on our big porch, on a glorious summer day, with a blue sky above and a soft breeze blowing.  However (I told my friend) I also can see the weeds that need ripping out, the plants that need watering and pruning, and the cobwebs and dust scattered all over the porch.  The thought came to mind – how do I choose to view my world? At my house, we seem to be perpetually in a planting and pruning mode. We continue to take back our land from blackberries and weeds, and the process can seem never-ending.  Five years ago we created a parking area for guests, three years ago we laid out a labyrinth, and since that time we have added flowers, shrubs and pathways to an area set aside as a prayer garden. At the same time, we continue to attack encroaching weeds